


Days In The Dark

by brinnabot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, One Shot, Past Abuse, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fic, Verbal Abuse, the abuse is NOT golorifed, the abuse is NOT sexual, the violence really isn't that graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnabot/pseuds/brinnabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "What if the shit with Rumlow didn't actually happen? What if Rumlow was still alive and off doing his asshole HYDRA Rumlow stunts under the radar, and of course he'd think to hunt down the Winter Soldier or something. Because he was around for some of Bucky's wipes and he knows how he works, and there's even speculation that Rumlow was one of Bucky's handlers. I feel like Bucky seeing Rumlow would either send him into a furious rage or would just like... freeze him up. Make him go kinda blank."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My dear friend Alyssa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+dear+friend+Alyssa).



> This was a birthday gift for a friend. I hope you guys enjoy it just as much as we did (which means crying a lot but hey that's what you get with angst)

_“Who let the two grandpas be in charge of this mission? How’re your joints holding up?”_

Sam’s voice rang through the team’s earpieces as they all moved into position. It wasn’t a real mission until someone shot out something sarcastic; usually it was Sam, which surprised no one, but lately Bucky had been catching on. It reminded Steve of their war days back in the 40’s; he could never get Bucky to shut up back then. 

Only a few months had passed since Bucky was woken up and the Wakandans worked to remove the HYDRA wiring in his head. They gave him a shiney new vibranium arm, which at the moment lacked its trademark red star, and now Bucky was free. A bright and warm personality began to break through, which the entire team seemed to latch onto.

“Ever heard of respecting your elders?” Bucky shot back as he and Steve cautiously and quickly made their way over to the house they were surrounding, side by side, steps synched. Almost 80 years had passed since they were torn away from each other, but it didn’t make a difference in how well they clicked; that was one thing that Bucky never had to relearn, it just happened.

Steve chuckled, quiet enough that he was able to keep it to himself. “Alright guys, c’mon we gotta focus. We can’t blow this.”

Just then, he and Bucky reached the house and pressed themselves against the wall to keep out of sight. Steve’s voice was at a whisper as he brought back the team’s concentration, locking eyes with Bucky as he finished the order.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled playfully and he smirked, but smartly he kept his mouth shut. There would be time for more fun and games later.

 _“Someone’s a party pooper today, boys. It’s sad, I was hoping to have some fun,”_ Nat spoke for the first time since they landed. A small huff from Sam managed to make it through as he stifled his laughter, and Bucky smiled silently to himself and kept his eyes on Steve who was now looking down and shaking his head.

“There will be plenty of fun, just not the kind you’re hoping for. Let’s get into position you assholes,” Steve answered, then looked back over to Bucky.

Without a word, Bucky nodded and pushed himself off the wall, taking off towards a field about 50 feet away from the house. The long grass was perfect cover.

It seemed ridiculous to everyone involved that HYDRA was still a problem these days. After DC the organization should have crumbled, never to be seen again, but their followers were tough and stubborn and for some reason refused to leave behind their broken organization. And so now almost four years after the hellicarriers fell, the team was still taking out members one by one.

Pierce was dead; Fury took care of that. Rumlow, however, escaped their grasp twice. Miraculously he survived the destruction in DC and then started popping up on their radar, much to the dismay of Steve. It was one thing to realize someone you worked and fought with had been betraying you the entire time, but it was a whole other thing to believe them dead and then have them come back looking for blood. 

For the first few months after Rumlow started appearing, Steve couldn’t think about the situation without feeling sick to his stomach. But his sadness and frustration slowly melted away to anger and disgust as time went on. More and more information came to the surface about how close Rumlow was to Bucky during his days in the city, trapped and tortured and weaponized. More and more information came to the surface about how he went behind his back, about how the small things he managed to do would sabotage a mission, about how he applied to be on the Winter Soldier team; that was all thanks to Nat’s data dump. After all that, Steve no longer felt pity for the man he once knew and respected, all he felt was blind rage.

Everything peaked when Steve and his team met up with the then new and improved Rumlow about two years ago. The whole world knew about that mission. Steve had finally grabbed hold of his comrade turned enemy when a few words caused the world to come crashing down around him. Rumlow spoke, and once Steve was distracted he pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the crowd, sneering. 

Steve’s heart stopped as he watched, helpless in stopping the bomb from going straight into a crowd of innocent people. With shaking hands he let go of Rumlow and was ready to launch himself on top of the bomb, but he saw it suddenly fly up into the air and away from the crowd in a blaze of scarlet before it could detonate. Wanda had caught it and flung it up just in time, but before she could get it far enough away it hit the corner of the closest building. 

Steve remembered the crowd ducking and screaming as glass rained down from the explosion. He had whipped his gaze around, looking for Wanda, who had collapsed to her knees, crying and shaking and trying to contain her sobs as she looked up at the destruction she caused. Everything had happened so quickly… And before Steve had a chance to register everything going on, Rumlow slipped away and into the crowd. They hadn’t seen him since.

_Your pal,_

_Your buddy,_

_**Your Bucky…** _

The words echoed around in Steve’s head as he watched Bucky get into position on the outskirts of the field, kneeling down behind a tree to get out his gun and load it.

But today they weren’t after Rumlow. Today they were after two former HYDRA operatives who had tucked themselves away in the safe house they now had surrounded. The two agents hadn’t caused any problems recently, but past experiences had taught the four of them that being off the radar doesn’t mean there isn’t anything going on.

 _“In position, Cap,”_ Sam called in.

 _“In position,”_ Nat.

 _“In position, Steve,”_ Bucky.

Steve took a deep breath, still looking back at Bucky who was now poised at the ready, gun loaded and aimed at the window only a few feet away from Steve. He tilted his head off to the side and gave Steve a nod; everything was set, it was time. The silence was deafening as they waited.

Bucky watched from the sidelines, rigid and quiet. Through his scope he took a glance inside the house: from what he could see it was bare, tidy. There was a light on in the corner which poured over to the view through the window, illuminating a bookshelf void of any books, any pictures, and only held what looked like a pile of newspapers. A twang of nostalgia hit him as he peered in; for two years he lived in a similar way and knew nothing else. He didn’t miss it, so maybe nostalgia was the wrong word. But it felt oddly like home.

 _“Alright Sam, Nat, let’s move,”_ Steve spoke up and things were thrown into motion.

Off to the side Bucky watched Sam kick in the front door of the house and Nat flew in; Sam followed close behind. Now Steve was the only one he could see, so he once again turned his focus back to the inside of the house.

 _“Something isn’t right, Steve,”_ Nat’s voice came through, quiet and concerned.

 _“No movement inside so far,”_ Sam replied.

 _“Did they run?”_ Steve asked.

 _“Don’t see how. We had eyes on them all day,”_ Sam answered.

Bucky listened, observed. He saw Steve edge around the corner and walk towards the door.

 _“Shit!”_ Sam shot out, startling Bucky, “ _Steve I found them. They’re dead. Bullets to the brain.”_

Bucky lost sight of Steve as he entered the house and suddenly he was alone, cut off. He peered inside but there wasn’t any change from his view in the window. His heart was pounding. _This was a set up._

 _“Someone wanted us here,”_ Steve said, worry creeping into his voice, _“Buck, do you see anything?”_

“Negative,” he answered, taking a look around, “No movement out here.” Everything around him was eerily quiet again except for the soft movement of the long grass in the wind.

“Didn’t look hard enough, Soldier,” a low voice, rough as gravel, sounded behind Bucky. His blood instantly turned to ice; he couldn’t move. 

“I thought I taught you better than that,” the voice spoke again.

Bucky flicked his gaze back behind him without turning his head, seeing the blurry outline of a figure standing behind him. Soft whirring could be heard from his metal arm as he clenched his fist; the rest of his body was shaking. 

**_Rumlow._ **

“You should never leave your back turned to the enemy,” Rumlow spoke up again as Bucky stood frozen in place, **_“Face me!”_**

Rumlow’s last few words sliced through the haze Bucky had fallen into and his stomach dropped. He whipped his face around without thinking, afraid of what he would see. For a split second he hoped he was just hallucinating, that this wasn’t real, but he quickly realized that having his mind play more tricks on him wasn’t something he wanted either.

Bucky’s heartbeat thudded and echoed in his head; it was all he could hear other than his short and labored breathing. His focus slipped and the grip he had on his rifle loosened, causing the gun to fall to the ground. But he didn’t notice or care. There was a silent war being fought inside his mind as one part of him screamed at him to turn and run, and the other begged him to plant his feet and stand his ground. To him it felt like an eternity before he made his decision; everything around him slowed down and melted away as the anxiety and terror took over.

In a small but swift motion, Bucky turned around and faced the man behind him. His feigned confidence told him to lift his chin and straighten his back, chest puffed out as he desperately tried to calm his breathing. He wasn’t going to run. Too much of his life was spent running.

While Bucky defiantly took his stance against Rumlow, the slight inflections on his face gave away just how scared he was. “What are you doing here,” Bucky growled, voice shaking.

The smallest smirk crept onto Rumlow’s face when Bucky spoke. “HYDRA isn’t finished with you yet, can't let you wander around with these guys no more. You know you don't belong with them.”

Hot tears welled up as Bucky listened, rage and anger and confusion boiling his blood. He forced his eyes shut for a second before opening them again, looking straight into Rumlow’s eyes, unblinking even though it burned. “I. Don't. Need. **_You._** ” The tears spilled out and streaked down his cheeks as he spoke, every drop seemingly searing his skin as it fell.

_“Bucky?”_

Bucky’s earpiece rang in a voice, momentarily distracting him. His eyes flicked to the side when he heard his name in his ear, and he took in a shaky breath. It was Steve. After taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts in the silence, Bucky looked back over to Rumlow with his eyebrows creased in anger and determination. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rumlow had another idea.

Metallic clicks went off as Rumlow lifted a gun, aiming it directly at Bucky’s forehead. “Wait wait wait, I think you'll want to hear what I have to say first before you make another move, soldier,” he spoke casually, cocking his head off to the side while his gun remained steady.

No acknowledgement came from Bucky, he simply clenched his jaw and kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him. If he waited long enough, someone from his team would come investigate why he went radio silent. Delays were only going to go in his favor.

“My friends got an eye on your friends,” Rumlow continued while motioning towards the house, “You’re gonna tell Steve everything is clear, or your three buddies don’t make it out of that house alive.”

 _“Barnes hasn’t called in, what’s going on?”_ Nat.

 _“Bucky, do you copy?”_ Steve again, sounding slightly panicked.

With his breath caught in his throat, Bucky turned around and took a glance back at the house. Sam walked past the window just then, obviously preoccupied with the mess they had to deal with inside and completely unaware of the red marker following his every move. Bucky started to shake, angry and scared, and turned back around with a huff. He had no choice… Rumlow and his team had them surrounded and pinned down.

Locking eyes with Rumlow again, Bucky lifted his hand to reach his earpiece. “Copy, Cap. All clear out here,” he replied finally.

 _“We have a shit storm to deal with in here,”_ Steve came through again, obvious relief washing over him after he heard Bucky answer, _“Can you watch our six a while longer? There’s a lot to look through.”_

“Affirmative,” Bucky answered, then he let his hand fall back down to his side.

“Good,” Rumlow said, “You still know how to follow my orders.”

Bucky’s knuckles became pale and white as he clenched his fist. To keep his friends alive he needed to bury his anger; easier said than done. 

“Let’s take a walk,” Rumlow continued. He reached forward with his free hand to grab hold of Bucky’s arm, trying to guide him away.

The moment he felt fingers wrap around him, Bucky tensed and violently ripped himself out of the grip. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

Rumlow lifted his hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he said, “Just move, into the field.”

With one last glance back at the house, Bucky turned and walked into the tall grass. As far as nightmares went, this was one of the worst… Or at least Bucky hoped that’s what this was: a nightmare. He had so many ghosts and demons from his past that haunted him in his sleep, in his head, in every one of his waking moments, that he thought he had seen it all. 

Being out of cryo wasn’t a walk in the park, even though deep down he had hoped it would have been. A few days after he was woken up, he heard Steve mention Rumlow in passing and felt himself suddenly thrown for a loop. It was hard enough to battle the things in his mind, but to know that there was still a living breathing reminder of his days in the dark… That was too much. But he kept it quiet and to himself, not wanting to come to terms with it all. Hoping the situation would fix itself. Boy, was he wrong. And now Bucky felt a sickening and overwhelming fear that it was all coming back to bite him. Everything from those days made their way back to him in one way or another.

~

_Bleak concrete walls. That was really the only thing that could be seen. The room was encased by them, and paired with the shadows that engulfed certain angles the room had an eerie, almost sickening mood._

_The room itself wasn’t small, but everything about it screamed that it was stifling, suffocating: that it was a prison; there was a single light on near one of the back corners that shone dimly with a green tint that was obvious amidst the yellow. An abandoned set of tools was set adrift in the other back corner. Usually each piece of metal had its own place on the small table they were set on, but at the moment they lay messily across the surface, tangled within and on top of each other. A bundle of cotton sat next to the pile of tools, small dabs of scarlet blood blotted on against the white._

_The sole occupant of the prison sat to the right, one half of their body glowing in the light and the other half being left to fade into the dark. With the chair being set off at an angle, whoever had the unfortunate luck to be in it was forced to look into the darkest corner of the room. Only one person had ever been in that seat, however, and at this moment in time that’s where they could be found._

_Tangled locks of brunette hair fell over parts of their face, but beneath it all were pale eyes that stared blankly ahead, unblinking and unwavering. The right corner of their mouth was cracked slightly, allowing for a trail of blood to run down their chin, and a small amount of crimson streaked their left cheek. The bleeding had stopped at this point, but not enough time had passed for it to dry._

_The Winter Soldier had been woken up a few hours earlier. Disorientation followed him wherever he went, or wherever he was dragged, as he was blinded by the lights, prodded with needles, and never once allowed to simply sit and adjust. His waking moments always ended up blurring together in the end, stirring around in his head as he struggled to piece together where exactly he was and what he was doing there. The missions they sent him on were the only things that really made any sense to him; he was given a clear purpose, a task, a reason to be breathing and moving. It didn’t feel right, but in another sense it didn’t feel inherently wrong._

_The atmosphere around this mission seemed different somehow. After dragging him here and there, The Soldier had an acute awareness of the force being used to secure his wrists into the cuffs of the chair. He knew he could fight back, and he knew he could win. He just never did. This time was different. Adrenaline snuck its way into his system, and something inside him told him to get out, to run, to fight. Like something was waiting for him outside the walls of his cell, if anything even existed outside the walls of his cell._

_Without knowing what he was doing, The Soldier ripped away his right hand seconds before it was able to be secured in place. The IV in his arm was torn out roughly, causing the needle to run across his skin deep enough for him to bleed. The individual closest to him got an elbow to the gut, sending him flying across the room and landing with a harsh crack against the concrete floor. The rest of the team scrambled around the room, shouting orders in a panic to avoid any more casualties. Someone else grabbed hold of his right arm to force it down, but once again they were flung away in a show of force. It gave The Soldier time to break his left arm free, yelling with the effort and sending pieces of the broken cuff scattered with an array of metal clinks against the floor. His metal arm calibrated as he made a fist, preparing to strike again. It was instinct he was acting on, pure instinct based on something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He became angry, but before he could move any farther the sounds of guns being loaded and aimed directly at him went off. Now standing up, he froze in place and realized his breathing was hot and shallow and raspy._

_“WAIT wait! Don’t shoot!” a voice shouted from behind the wall of guns, “He’s provoked, don’t make another move.” The room went silent, and a body made its way between the armed guards who had their guns pointed in The Soldier’s direction._

_Rumlow._

_In a few slow strides, he made his way over to stand directly in front of The Soldier. Their faces ended up about a foot away from each other, and their eyes met with cold calculation._

_“Sit,” Rumlow commanded, “that’s an order.”_

_The Soldier swallowed hard but didn’t move a muscle, his left fist still clasped and tense and ready to strike. He felt his heart pound in his chest, ready to burst; he knew what defiance meant for him. At the moment he didn’t care._

_“Sit,” Rumlow growled, **“now.”**_

_Sick of commands. Tired of threats. In a split second, the anger pulsing through The Soldier melted away and suddenly he felt an odd calmness sweep over him. Whatever was waiting for him outside this place… He needed to know what it was._

_**“No.”** _

_His voice was rough, cracked, obviously unused. But it worked._

_If the room wasn’t silent before, it was now. The Winter Soldier didn’t speak. Everyone knew that. They stared at him like they were seeing a ghost, but it was **their** faces that went pale._

_For a moment, Rumlow’s concentration broke. His face twisted in confusion before quickly relaxing again. He straightened his shoulders, shifted his feet; just because he had been briefed on what to do in this exact situation, doesn’t mean he was prepared for it. But the challenge had him reeling._

_“No?” he finally spoke back to The Soldier, “You might want to reconsider that, Soldier.”_

_“No.” The Soldier spoke again, still rough and worn but more confident. The tension in the room had escalated exponentially during their exchange, it was almost unbearable. Too much waiting, too many pauses, not enough action…_

_The Soldier’s left hand began to swing up and around, heading straight for Rumlow’s face, but before he could make contact something sharply cracked into the right side of his jaw. The pain shot through him in waves as he stumbled to the side and steadied himself against the wall, the metal of his hand scraping lightly against the concrete. Wincing, he lifted his flesh hand and carefully felt the area of impact, huffing in defeat when he pulled back his hand and saw it traced with the blood from his face. His bare skin still bore the scratch from the needle which left small and intricate trails of blood on his forearm. With the adrenaline dying down and the fear setting in, his entire body began to violently shake. He was afraid his knees would give out, and so he reached back behind him to steady himself with both hands against the wall._

_With his jaw clenched, his breathing shaky, and his knees weak, The Soldier found himself trapped and beaten. His eyes flicked back to the wall behind him… Whatever was on the other side would have to wait._

_One more gun was then added to the arsenal being aimed at the metal armed assassin. Rumlow slipped it effortlessly from it’s holster and lifted the barrel up to have it only a few feet away from The Soldier’s face. “Last chance, soldier,” he said threateningly, “Sit in the damn chair, or this time it’ll be more than my fist that hits your jaw.”_

_For most, the decision to get up and obey wouldn’t have been up for debate. But it was in those few seconds that The Soldier stood there, drenched in a cold sweat and aching to be free, thinking about throwing himself back in the ring, and a part of him hoped he wouldn’t make it out. His gut was telling him that something wasn’t right, that there was something coming, and that if he didn’t fight now everything would crumble at his feet. But he was tired. And so he exhaled a shaking breath, let his hands fall away from the wall, and surrendered._

_Rumlow dropped the gun and motioned to the people behind him. Two doctors swiftly took their places, one on each side of The Soldier, and guided him back to the chair._

_The world became unfocused, distant. The Soldier felt himself being seated back down, felt himself being fussed over… He heard bits and pieces of a conversation dealing with the broken cuff on the left side of the chair as the needle scratch on his arm was tended to, making it ready for another IV. Once another needle was in place, he felt some life creep back into his limbs._

_“That wipe you did this morning obviously didn’t work,” Rumlow’s voice broke through his haze, “Pierce is gonna be pissed if his pride and joy ain’t up to par, so you guys better fucking re-do it and get this shit under control, ya hear me? I’m not gonna be around every time his wiring is on the fritz, so you better be prepared for the next time this happens, and you know there will be a next time.”_

_“Yes, sir,” was the only response Rumlow got. The Soldier lifted his head just enough to see Rumlow walk out the opening of the room. Two guards slammed the heavy metal-barred door behind him._

_Right wrist: secure. The cuff wasn’t damaged at all on that side. Left wrist: secure. When The Soldier broke himself free the cuff shattered, it wasn’t salvageable. But they had his arm tied down with some nylon rope… Clearly not enough to stop him from escaping again, but it did its job; he wasn’t going to try again._

_The tests were done for now. Everyone started to slowly exit the room with their tasks in mind: some needed to report to Pierce, some were sent to get what was needed to fix the left cuff of the chair, others were taking a break before the next memory wipe went down. The doctors didn’t even bother to clean up The Soldier’s face, and he sat there feeling the stickiness of the blood and the beginning of a bruise start to form, unable to do anything about it. The last doctor shoved the table of tools off to the side, leaving it askew in the opposite corner. Once he left, the room become sickeningly quiet._

_This is how things were left: disoriented, messy, distant. The Winter Soldier was only ever taken care of up to a certain point. As long as he was alive, breathing, and compliant, it didn’t really matter what else he was. Everyone’s worst nightmare was being present when the weapon’s humanity broke through, but what they never saw was that The Soldier’s worst nightmare was the exact same thing. It was easier to be told what to do, where to go, to be dragged around and tested on. All of that was less painful than being punished for deviating from the norm. And because of that, twinges of regret hit him as he sat in his chair in his cell, staring blankly at the wall in front of him and trying his best to push down the thoughts running through his head. He ached for numbness, for the singularity of purpose he found in his missions._

_Outside the concrete walls of the room, beyond the metal bars that kept anything from getting in or out, footsteps echoed in and slowly become louder and louder. The Soldier had no idea how long he had been sitting there, but it felt like an eternity. Indistinguishable chatter fluttered in; someone had reached the two guards outside the door. After a few moments, the loud screech of the metal lock being opened pierced the air, and The Soldier was no longer alone._

_“Sorry about all that from earlier,” it was Rumlow again, and this time he spoke with such familiarity in his voice one could have guessed he was talking to a close friend, “It’s my job to make sure things don’t get too messy. But you understand that, I know.”_

_The Soldier gave no indication that he heard anything being said to him. His eyes stayed locked on the dark corner across the way; he wasn’t about to open his mouth again._

_“I think what happened earlier taught ya an important lesson, though,” Rumlow continued as he paced slowly in front of The Soldier, “Pierce may be the head honcho but when things get nitty gritty, it’s me you gotta listen to.” As he finished speaking, he stopped off the right of The Soldier and glared down at him._

_Head still drooped, eyes still blank, hands still cold… The Soldier might have heard every word Rumlow said but still he gave no response._

_“Look at me, soldier,” that was an order._

_Hesitation._

_Both of them stayed silent, testing the waters._

_But then The Soldier’s eyes moved, his chin raising slightly, and his gaze moved away from the corner and onto Rumlow while still maintaining its cold blankness._

_“Good,” Rumlow said approvingly, “lesson learned.”_

_Slight pause. Rumlow scoffed and looked down at the ground, shaking his head._

_“It’s actually kinda sad, ya know,” he continued his monologue and slowly walked to the other side of the chair, “That you’re here while he’s there, and I get to see that beautiful face of his all the time while you can’t… Not that you would remember him if ya could.”_

_**What? Who?** _

_The Soldier had kept his eyes on Rumlow as he moved in front of him, but confusion took over and he became unfocused, distant. **Who was he talking about? Remember who? Remember…**_

_“It was a lot of work climbing the ranks to get to work with you, ya know. You’re HYDRA’s golden boy, and most of us could only dream of workin’ so close to Pierce,” Rumlow kept speaking even though The Soldier was fading by the second, “But he trusts me now to the point where I’m even working with that patriotic goon of yours… Steve is as blind as bat, they all are.”_

_**Steve..?** _

_**Steve…** _

_Suddenly Rumlow was crouched down in front of him, hands placed on the arms of the chair, glaring at him with emotions The Soldier couldn’t exactly pinpoint; he was too distracted by that name, that name, that **name** who was it **who** why did it sound.. **familiar..**_

_“Who’s Steve?” The Soldier spoke, voice shaking, hands shaking, body shaking. He had to know. He **had** to know. _

_Rumlow was about to continue his rant before The Soldier interrupted, and slowly a dangerous smirk stretched across his face. “So you really **don’t** remember, do ya? You’re breakin’ your Captain’s heart, Soldier. If only he was here right now, he would be done for good.”_

_Every word out of Rumlow’s mouth made The Soldier angrier and angrier. On the surface he didn’t know why he was angry, but something deep inside him began to stir; something inside him woke up, and he wasn’t sure if he could contain it. All in the span of a few seconds, flashes and visions slashed through his mind; the soft glow of blond hair in the sunlight, the sound of graphite moving across paper, silent glances of warmth and belonging exchanged under the stars, the feeling of **home…**_

_All this time, something had been missing. What if this life wasn’t meant for him? Something wasn’t right. Hot tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks, and his blood boiled underneath his skin. “Where is Steve?” he screamed, “WHERE IS HE?”_

_The Soldier gasped when he suddenly felt a hand violently grab hold of his chin, the pressure and force stopping him from opening his mouth to speak again. Their faces were only a few inches apart now, both glaring at each other with their own rage._

_“You don’t get to speak!” Rumlow was screaming back now, “You’d be nothin’ without HYDRA, without us. You’re **ours.** Nothin’ but a tool in our belt, and we could break ya at any time we want. Do you understand that, Soldier? And I sure ain’t gonna bring you back to your precious Steve!” He then pushed The Soldier’s face away from him as he let go, walking away angrily and obviously worked up. After a few steps he paused, lifting his hand up to see that blood from The Soldier’s face had rubbed off on him. With a glance back, he attempted to rub his hand clean on his shirt._

_The Soldier didn’t know what to do. He was hyperventilating, jaw clenched in anger, tears still trailing down his face. He closed his eyes and let his head droop back down to his chest._

_“Please…” his voice was weak, “He needs me, where is Steve…”_

_“Don’t worry, Soldier,” he heard Rumlow from across the room, “Soon, all that stuff in your head won’t be botherin’ ya anymore. They’ll take it away.”`_

_**No. No please.** The Soldier squeezed his eyes closed even tighter than before but kept his mouth shut._

_“Besides, HYDRA’s plan is gonna come in swingin’, we’re gonna be in charge, and then no one will have to deal with Captain America anymore. Him or his ragtag group of friends. So don’t worry yourself, you’ll be on the winning team,” Rumlow spoke triumphantly and started walking towards the exit, “See ya soon, Soldier. Good luck on your mission. Fury won’t see it coming.”_

_Another loud metal screech signaled the door opening, and then **slam!** it was shut, and yet again The Soldier was alone. He was left exactly how he was before: head slumped down, tangled hair blocking his face, silent, uncared for, lonely._

_**Lonely.** _

_His heart ached. This feeling was different from anything he could remember feeling before. He was unsure how his heart continued beating when it was so tired, worn; he thought maybe it was broken. He didn’t want to feel anymore, he didn’t want all the pain._

_The Soldier still didn’t know who Steve was. Or maybe he did, but there was no way he could be sure. Certain flickers of past emotions felt so real, too real to be imagined. But what he couldn’t understand was why he couldn’t remember it all. If it really had happened, why couldn’t he remember it?_

_He remembered his missions… He remembered the faces that looked up at him in fear, that silently pleaded with him to let them live. He remembered every time they shoved him back into cryo, and the unbearable cold he felt before everything went black. That was all real. So why couldn’t he remember the other things? The warmth and belonging and.. happiness. He wanted to remember what it was like to feel happy. **Truly** happy._

_He tried. He tried to remember. Focusing on the name Steve made him feel the most, so he clung to it, desperate. The memories he remembered earlier were really all he could call back, the golden blond hair and blurry smiles under the night sky. A voice called back to him at one point, whispering a name. **“Bucky…”**_

_The screech of metal broke The Soldier’s concentration. Doctors and armed guards poured into the room without any warning. His confusion and anger was replaced with fear and anxiety. He knew exactly what was coming next._

_Within a few minutes, everything was in place. The left cuff on his chair was replaced, and they pinned down his metal limb without a fight. A doctor made his way over and slid in his mouthguard, also without a fight._

_As The Soldier sat there, head leaned back against the seat, bracing himself for the wipe, he knew that this time he couldn’t give up his memories without a fight. Maybe he had before, maybe he didn’t know any better before, but something about the way Steve’s name felt when he heard it, thought it, spoke it… it made him feel almost whole. He didn’t want to give that up, he needed to keep it._

_Deep breath in…_

_Rumlow was wrong, he was more than just what HYDRA made him._

_Eyes closed..._

_Rumlow was wrong, HYDRA couldn’t break him._

_Try and relax..._

_Rumlow was wrong, they weren’t going to make him forget._

_**Try and remember…** _

~

Bucky and Rumlow walked farther and farther into the dense vegetation, and soon the sea of grass was all they could see around them. The house disappeared from view, and after a few moments the scene became surprisingly quiet and peaceful. It just made Bucky more uneasy, more on edge; the air was filled with a kind of static tension, like something was building up and preparing to strike or burst.

“Where the _hell_ are we going, there’s nothing out here,” Bucky lashed out, looking over his shoulder to Rumlow who was walking behind him with his gun aimed and ready to shoot. Then he stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet and waiting for an answer from Rumlow.

After a few moments Bucky heard him click the safety on his gun. Confused and not understanding what was going on, he turned around fully to see that Rumlow didn’t even have the weapon pointed at him anymore; he still had it in his hand, it just hung lazily at his side.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Bucky hissed, “Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Lots of people want to believe that HYDRA is dead,” Rumlow finally answered, “But you and your friends know better. _I_ certainly know better. And those of us that are left… We need you. We want ya to be our golden boy again, Soldier.” A smile stretched across his face once he finished.

“I was never HYDRA,” Bucky growled in response.

“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t ya? But we both know that ain’t exactly true,” Rumlow said, “But hey, the past is the past. Right now, all you need to do is listen to our proposal and lemme know whatcha think. It’s simple.”

Every ounce of strength Bucky had was being used to stop himself from flattening Rumlow into the ground right then and there. There would be a time for that, just not yet. He took a short but deep breath in. “I’m listening.”

“Lovely,” Rumlow said, smirking, “Now I know all that memory wiping shit probably wasn’t too fun for ya back in the day. Never envied you for that. So, as a favor from us, if you come and work for us willingly we won’t do that to ya no more.”

Bucky scoffed, “This offer isn’t very appealing, why would I-”

“Shhhh, hey hey hey, I wasn’t done,” Rumlow lifted his hand, finger pointed to quiet Bucky down, “Here’s the catch: if ya _don’t_ come willingly, I’ll _personally_ make sure Steve and Sam and Natasha don’t make it out of that house. You’ll still be brought back with us though, so I feel like that option might not be the ideal.”

_Shit._

Bucky froze. He wanted to believe that the rest of his team could make it out of the safehouse alive, that they could defend themselves; but if he held that faith to a fault, any or all of them could die. Peering past Rumlow he looked towards the house, but the field had swallowed them up and he couldn’t see anything other than the vegetation. He started to panic, looking down at his feet, eyes darting around as he tried to think through the situation.

“We don’t have all day, Soldier, make up your mind,” Rumlow shot out impatiently, “Either way HYDRA will follow your buddies like a shadow from now, just to make sure you stay in line once you’re back. The only way you can protect ‘em is to follow me back to base.”

_I don’t have a choice._

Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. Everything was coming full circle again; he knew he couldn’t run from his past forever. There was no way in hell that he was going to put his friends in danger just to save himself, that was out of the question. But this, this was some cruel irony. Maybe if he just went along with it for now, maybe he could fight his way out later, maybe this could work, as long as they’re safe, as long as _Steve’s_ safe…

**_I don’t have a choice._ **

There was nothing else that he could do. This was it. He was about to walk straight into the belly of the beast, right back where he was caught for 70 years. Part of him always knew he wouldn’t ever be able to escape; it whispered to him late at night and followed him in the shadows in the day. Bucky Barnes was The Winter Soldier, HYDRA’s faceless bringer of death. Even here and now, his choices were going to bring about death in some fashion. Maybe it was time that he accepted it.

Cold resolution. That’s all that Bucky chose to feel when he locked eyes with Rumlow. “I swear, if any harm comes to my teammates, I _will_ kill you. I will burn HYDRA to the ground, I will burn the ashes, and I will feel no remorse in doing so,” he took slow steps towards Rumlow as he spoke, “If I come with you, I’ll do what you want. But **_they live._** Your word better fucking keep, Rumlow.”

“Never lied to ya before,” Rumlow answered calmly, almost jokingly, “not gonna start now.”

“Fine, then-” Bucky was cut off.

Two gunshots sounded off. Then complete silence. No screams. No more shots. Nothing. Something wasn’t right.

Bucky’s mind went straight to Steve, straight to his team. Panic took over, nothing else mattered. Steve had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep him safe before. If he even had an inkling that Bucky was in trouble he would come running, and Bucky was afraid this time he went too far, took one step in the wrong direction… _No, no no…_

“Steve?” his name slipped out, **_“Steve?”_** but the second time Bucky was screaming. His feet began to carry him towards the house, and after a slight stumble he started running through the field. The situation had turned to shit; now wasn’t the time to think about consequences. 

The next thing he knew, Bucky was dragged to the ground, his body hitting the dirt with so much force that he couldn’t breathe for a moment or two. There was a weight on top of him, pressing on his lungs, disorienting him. Gasping for air, his vision finally cleared and he saw Rumlow on top of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bucky swung his metal arm up in a wild attempt to knock Rumlow off, and miraculously it worked. He let himself breathe in while he tried to sit up, looking around, trying to figure out his next move. He lifted his hand up to reach his earpiece, his breathing still rough and coarse. “Steve?” he managed to scratch out, “Steve, anyone, do you copy?”

Before Bucky got a response he was pulled up and off the ground; Rumlow had wrapped an arm around his neck and yanked him up, causing him to cough and gasp for air again. With his free hand, Rumlow ripped out Bucky’s earpiece and sent it flying into the long grass. It was gone. 

“Alright, Soldier, I guess you _aren’t_ gonna go down without a fight. Shoulda expected that from you,” Rumlow growled down at him.

Bucky couldn’t breathe. He barely had time to catch his breath before he was being choked again, and he began to panic as he hung from Rumlow’s arm, trying to claw his way out. He realized he wasn’t going to be able to punch his way out, and decided to go limp: play dead. His hands dropped to his side and suddenly Rumlow was holding all of Bucky’s deadweight, causing him to lurch forward slightly.

A moment of weakness; Rumlow was distracted. Bucky took the opportunity he had, and within just a few seconds he had grabbed hold of the arm still around his neck and flipped Rumlow over his back. They both forcefully hit the ground; Rumlow landed with a shout as his wrist twisted on impact.

Coughing, Bucky rolled himself over, hand holding his neck as he once again struggled to breathe and get himself up off the ground. After a few moments he looked over to Rumlow who was already to his knees, holding his wrist and getting to his feet; his back was turned. Bucky shakily got to his knees and saw the gun holstered on Rumlow’s belt. 

_Get up, get the gun, **now!**_

His lungs were burning, his muscles were shaking, tears were streaming down his face. But Bucky got up. With everything he had, he launched himself towards Rumlow and grabbed hold of the holstered gun, causing Rumlow to fall back to the ground; he swung back around and looked up to find the barrel of his own gun pointed straight down at him. Bucky finally had control over the situation.

Rumlow raised a hand in surrender. “Alright, alright listen we-”

 ** _“Shut up!”_** Bucky cut him off, screaming. He held the gun with both hands and yet it still shook. His breathing was heavy, hot, angry. Something had snapped; he wasn’t going to be controlled anymore, “You’re going to _shut up_ , and _you’re_ going to listen to **_me_** for once, do you understand?”

Rumlow’s eyes wandered from Bucky’s face to the gun and then back again. Wisely enough, he decided to keep his mouth shut and simply sat there, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

“I remember everything you said to me,” Bucky’s voice was quiet now, yet still stiff and full of rage, “I may not remember a lot of stuff, but I remember _everything_ you said to me. And there isn’t a chance in hell that after all that, after all _this_ , you’ll walk away a free man.”

A moment’s pause to look towards the house. Since the two shots things still had stayed deathly quiet.

“If my friends have been harmed in any way, I swear to you that everything you stand for, everything that your sick and twisted heart holds dear, I’ll burn it all,” Bucky continued and looked back down at the man at his feet, “Nothing will be left standing when I’m done.”

“We created you!” Rumlow shouted back, “Even if you get rid of the rest of us, you’ll still be around, and that means HYDRA won’t ever really be dead. Ya always seem to forget your roots.” His face twisted up into an evil smirk.

“I said **_SHUT UP!_** ” Bucky screamed. He took a step forward as he yelled and pressed the gun against Rumlow’s forehead, “I am more than just a puppet, more than whatever weapon HYDRA made me to be. You won’t break me, you won’t break me, you **_won’t!_** ”

“Seems like I already have,” Rumlow answered calmly despite the gun being pressed against his skin, “Or else you would have pulled that trigger already, Soldier.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Bucky’s voice was almost at a whisper now, “This is mercy I’m showing you, maybe against my better judgment. I’m not gonna let you keep Steve and me apart, not again. And the only reason you’re still alive right now is because this is what he would do. He wouldn’t kill you.”

“Lucky me,” Rumlow retorted back.

“Get up,” Bucky pressed the gun even harder against Rumlow’s head, “We’re taking a walk, and we’re going to clean up this mess.”

Slowly, Rumlow rose to his feet, holding up his uninjured arm in surrender while the other hung limply at his side. The tension grew as the silence continued.

Bucky motioned slightly for Rumlow to move, heading towards the house. They began to walk, positions reversed from earlier as Bucky held the other man at gunpoint through the long grass. Reality told them that only minutes had passed since the gunshots went off, but for Bucky, this fight had been going on for decades. Every time he thought he might be free of HYDRA’s grip, he ended up being pulled back in even closer. He was tired; it always ended in a fight.

As they walked, Bucky spoke up. “Tell your boys to stand down. Now.”

“And why would I take orders from you?” Rumlow answered without turning around.

“Earlier you mentioned my team would stay safe no matter the circumstances, and if I remember correctly you _also_ told me you don’t lie,” Bucky shot back, venom in every word, “Also, ya know, I have a gun to your head, so.”

Bucky saw Rumlow shoot back a quick glance before reaching up a hand to his earpiece. Orders were never given.

As if a war suddenly broke loose, gunshots fired off in every direction. An array of bullets were flying through the air just out of sight, and Bucky stopped dead in his tracks as his heart started and stopped erratically in his chest.

Rumlow stopped as well, turning around as Bucky looked frantically around him even while his gun was still aimed at the man in front of him.

“Too late, oops,” Rumlow shouted over the noise, shrugging his shoulders and smirking.

Bucky’s gaze found it’s way back to the HYDRA operative as he tried to concentrate, figure out what his next move should be. His first instinct was to run and his heart told him to go to his team, that he had to get to them even with the wall of bullets in his way, but he frustratingly told his feet to stay put.

That’s when a loud cry was heard. The shots died down and eventually stopped. Target: stopped.

The switch was flipped; the camel’s back was broken.

Bucky was done.

“You lied,” he spoke to Rumlow at almost a whisper, voice shaking.

“Nothin’ I could do, that was just bad tim-” before he could finish, Rumlow broke out in a painful cry, falling to the ground. Shot to the leg.

“You might have lied, Rumlow, but **_I did not!_** ” Bucky shouted as he took a few steps towards him on the ground, gun still aimed and ready to fire again, “HYDRA is going to fall, it’s going to crumble and never again see the light of day, I swear to you, I will make sure of it **_myself!_** ”

Rumlow grit his teeth and held his leg, sweat pouring down his face as he glanced up once again to look directly down the barrel of his own gun. For the first time, fear crept over his face. Bucky relished in it; the tables had finally turned.

“You better still be listening, you piece of shit,” Bucky continued, “Never again will anyone suffer at the hands of corrupt men like you. Never again will anyone be made to feel worthless, feel _less_ than worthless, by the words from people like you. I made a promise once that my days of killing are over, but if killing you and your twisted friends is what it takes to keep _mine_ safe, then so be it.”

_Click._

Ready to fire.

“The people in that house, one of which you just shot down… they are all that is good in this world, they are all that matter to me. I have been beaten and dragged into this century, and frankly I can’t find anything about me that is worth saving,” Bucky’s voice cracked with emotion, his speech continuing while Rumlow stayed frozen in place, “But they saved me anyway. I owe them everything I have, every ounce of good that’s left in me that survived the sheer evil you and your people put me through. And they are worth more than you ever have been.

I hope you’ve made peace with yourself, with every shred of humanity you gave away throughout the years.

And I hope that you **_rot in hell._** ”

“Bucky?”

His name echoed in. The grass shuffled. 

“Buck? Where are you?”

**_Steve!_ **

Steve was alive. But that didn’t change the fact that Bucky was dead set on not letting Rumlow walk away. His concentration momentarily faltered, but after a deep breath he focused on Rumlow again, prepared to shoot.

“Buck! Hey, whoa Bucky wait a second, _don’t shoot!_ ”

That was all it took.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. His stone cold resolve cracked the moment he heard Steve’s voice. His hands suddenly weakened, shaking and unsure. Every other muscle was tense, twisted.

“Hey, c’mon Buck, look at me.”

_No._

“I’m fine, Nat and Sam are fine, you can relax. Don’t kill him.”

“He deserves it,” Bucky hissed back.

“I can’t imagine the pain and anger you must be feeling right now, Buck. But if you kill him, you’re going to regret it, I know you will,” Steve remained calm as he attempted to talk Bucky down, “He’ll get what he deserves. You damn well know I’ll make sure of it, but you gotta put down the gun. You gotta trust me.”

Trust. Even with Steve, trust was something Bucky didn’t have a tight grip on. Every bone in his body screamed at him to just let go, to let himself be out of control and just trust his friends, but he stood his ground. 

_What am I doing?_

Lips began to quiver. Tears began to fall.

“He kept me away from you. He kept me in a cage, watched it happen, **_let it happen,_** ” he was broken and desperate, trying to keep the hurt inside him where he thought it belonged but failing, “He was gonna do it to me again, but I had to keep you safe!” Bucky ripped his gaze away from Rumlow and finally looked over to Steve, who was about ten feet away, holding his helmet, and was ready with open arms. 

“ _We are safe, Bucky._ I’m safe, the team is safe, you don’t have to fight anymore,” Steve paused, “You don’t have to fight anymore.”

“I…”

Bucky let his eyes meet Steve’s.

“You can let go, Buck. I’m not gonna let you go this time.”

Bucky’s hands fell.

“Steve…”

He felt the gun gently lifted from his hands.

He was so cold.

So tired.

_“I’m sorry…”_

Arms wrapped around his waist.

A hand carefully lifted and cradled his head, fingers burying into his tangled hair.

They were close, and Steve was warm.

Bucky clung to him, his face pressed against his chest.

“Shh.. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Steve hummed quietly, “You’re okay, you’re safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Bucky’s eyes burned, his entire body shook; while he cried it took only seconds for his knees to give out. Steve caught him easily and in one swoop scooped him into his arms. Bucky reached up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck almost out of instinct, burying his face into the crook of the other man’s neck.

Steve sighed, finally letting go some of the tension built up in his shoulders. As he held up Bucky, he glanced over to the side where Nat and Sam could now be seen. Sam had a large bandage around his right arm, blood starting to soak through, but other than that the two of them were alive and well. Nat had taken the gun from Bucky to keep an eye on Rumlow who sat next to her, defeated and in pain.

Sam shot Steve a sad smile. “He’s tough. He’ll be alright.”

Steve nodded back and glanced down at Bucky. It had taken him longer than it should have to realize it, but the super soldier he held in his arms was his entire world. Right now Bucky seemed so small, helpless, like he could just disappear at any moment. Steve was afraid he would, but he wasn’t going to let that happen for the tenth, hundredth, thousandth time. All those years Steve couldn’t protect himself, there was Bucky; he finally felt like he could return the favor, even if he wished he didn’t have to.

Steve could never decide if fate was cruel or kind to the two of them. Neither answer seemed right. Either way, they always seemed to make their way back to each other. Each of them have burned through a dozen versions of themselves and yet they found that in every new beginning they loved each other more than they did the last. It was both frustratingly painful and heartbreakingly hopeful; they just couldn’t seem to get rid of each other, no matter how hard the universe tried to pull them apart.

“Alright, Rumlow. Or wait, what was that stupid name you called yourself? Crossbones?” Nat interrupted Steve’s train of thought, “Get on your feet, Bones, it’s time that you come with us.”

“As much as I’d love to run away into the sunset with ya, your buddy over there made sure I couldn’t do that,” he spat back up at her.

Sam appeared next to him, extending his uninjured arm down towards Rumlow. “I got one good arm left, you got one good leg left… I think we can make this work.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Rumlow took hold of Sam’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up off the ground.

“Alright, Steve, let’s blow this popsicle stand shall we?” Nat smiled over at Steve as she spoke, taking a quick glance at Bucky.

Steve smiled back at her, still staying silent. There would never be a time he wasn’t thankful to have Nat with them on these missions. He knew how much she risked coming to join them after the events a few years back with Tony and the Accords. They were lucky to have her, her skills, and her ability to keep the team smiling and light when all they could see was the dark.

Sam grunted under Rumlow’s weight. “Seriously Rogers, let’s get the hell out of here. I may be nice, but the timer is running out for this limp noodle I’m carrying over here.”

A chuckle escaped Steve. _What a goof._ He took a moment to look at his best friends before he started back towards the house.

Steve held the back of the line as they walked; everyone was moving pretty slowly. Bucky had been quiet and still since they started their trek back, and Steve hoped that he had drifted off or at least found some peace. It was never easy for him to see Bucky upset, and this was absolutely no exception. But just as Steve had concluded that he was asleep, he heard the man in his arms speak up without lifting his head.

“Steve?” It was quiet, meek, desperate.

“What is it, Buck?”

“I love you.”

Steve felt his heart swell, and he couldn’t hold himself back from smiling, happiness and love beaming from his face. It had been a long day, but that… _that_ made it all just a little bit better.

“I love you too, Bucky. I love you too.”


End file.
